


Precisely Three Times a Year

by nagi_schwarz



Series: The Oppenheimer Effect [16]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: AU, Crossover, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6835468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Any, parent who outlived a child, It's Quiet Uptown."</p><p>JD lets the men of Casa Atlantica accompany him on his annual pilgrimage to Charlie O'Neill's grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precisely Three Times a Year

JD went to visit Charlie's gave precisely three times a year: on the anniversary of his birth, Father's Day, and the anniversary of his death. He said nothing, just stood beside the headstone and closed his eyes and remembered, and then left a baseball beside the flower someone else put there before he returned to his life.   
  
Memories of Charlie laughing, running around, playing baseball, were always intermingled with memories of Sara's anger, of the judging eyes and damning silence of the neighbors whenever he had walked past them. Memories of Charlie were also intermingled with that fateful trip through the Stargate, to the planet of neon-yellow sand and bright blue crystals and being able to hold his son's hand (almost his son) one last time.   
  
He'd loved Sara, loved her with everything he had, but his failure, losing Charlie, it had broken something between them, and he hadn't figured out how to fix it until it was too late, and by then he was going through the gate on a regular basis. The weight of Charlie would have been compounded by the weight of secrecy he carried, greater than the classified nature of all his previous work, and he couldn't bring himself to do that to Sara. He'd loved Sam, and he'd loved Daniel, loved them them the same way he'd loved Sara, but nothing would ever come close to the way he'd loved Charlie, and even though Charlie had haunted him on a daily basis in the halls of every high school he went to, coming here and remembering like this was different, was purer, was just for him. It didn't come out of nowhere like a sucker punch, it was something he could steel himself for.  
  
This was the first time he'd ever brought anyone with him. Ever. Even before The Divide, this was a pilgrimage he'd made alone. John, Rodney, Evan, and Cam hung back a respectful distance. Cam had Oppie on his lap, ready to offer him up for comfort at a moment's notice, but all of them were silent while JD stood beside the tombstone, closed his eyes, and remembered.  
  
"I wondered who was leaving the baseballs."  
  
JD opened his eyes and spun around.  
  
Sara stood opposite him, watching him carefully, holding herself still, like if she moved he'd bolt. Maybe he would.  
  
No. The others were behind him. He could feel them. They were his family, his comrades. They would never let him come to harm, and they would never let him face his fears alone.  
  
"Did you know Charlie?" Sara was holding a handful of wild-picked daisies, Charlie's favorite, the kind he'd always picked for her on Mother's Day or her birthday.  
  
He cleared his throat. "We used to play baseball together."  
  
Sara smiled. "He loved baseball."  
  
"That he did. He loved to laugh, too."  
  
"You've been coming here for a long time," Sara said. "But this is the first time we've run into each other."  
  
"I tend to prefer to visit alone."  
  
Sara raised her eyebrows at the men and cat arrayed behind him.  
  
"This is the first time they've come with me," JD said.   
  
"I don't remember every boy who was on Charlie's baseball team, not like his father did. All that military training made Jack good at remembering names. He called you all his 'men'."  
  
"Yes." JD remembered well. He deepened his voice, said, "'Leave no man behind, all right? Throw hard, hit hard, bring every man home.'"  
  
Sara's eyes went wide. "Yes, that was exactly what he'd say. You have a gift for impressions."  
  
"Not really. Just the one." JD tilted his head, smiled at her, and said, "It was good to see you again, Mrs. O'Neill."  
  
"Thanks for coming by," Sara said.  
  
JD tossed her a sloppy salute, did an about face, and fell in beside Evan, grabbed his hand. Oppie launched off of Cam's lap and across JD's shoulders, and for once the gazes of the people he passed didn't feel like judgment, and even if they did, the presence of the men around him felt like love, and he'd never have to come here in quiet, suffering silence again.


End file.
